


Stand By Me

by VolxdoSioda



Series: Whumptober 2018 (Complete) [31]
Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Day 31 - showdown, M/M, Whumptober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-29
Updated: 2018-10-29
Packaged: 2019-08-09 10:55:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16448558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VolxdoSioda/pseuds/VolxdoSioda
Summary: It's been a long journey, but at last they've come home.





	Stand By Me

It's been a long journey. But at last, they've reached the gates of Insomnia.

At last, they've returned home. Back to where it all began. It seems like a lifetime ago that they stood on these steps, listening to Noctis speak to Regis in a way that was both nerve-wracking and comforting. A lifetime ago since they left Insomnia, never knowing the tragedy they were leaving in their wake. 

Ignis can hear Prompto sucking in sharp breaths through his nose, like he does when he's trying to calm his nerves and not give himself away. Gladio's tightening and releasing his hands around the grip of his sword, trying to channel away his own anxiety. Even after so long, they all have the same tells. The same little quirks that Ignis remembers listening and watching back when the sun was bright in the sky, the sea over Galdin was blue, and there was nothing but the promise of a wedding on the horizon to guide them all.

Now they've come full circle over the course of ten years. A long time to be kept waiting. 

But they're home now, and they're going to make this  _right._

Ignis puts fingers to the hilts of his daggers, tapping them three times on each side for luck. "Let's go," he says, and in the quiet of Insomnia, his voice seems to echo. 

They walk on, and encounter neither daemon nor human for a long time. There's nothing. Not until they find themselves in front of the Citadel again. Only then do they find the one they've kept waiting. 

Once, he had been King and protector. Once, he was the Promised, the Chosen, the Gods' Favored. They told him  _go forth and change the tides of fate,_ and he did. 

Now, the Gods spurn him, just as they have spurned every Lucis Caelum, just as they have  _lied_ to every Lucis Caelum.

Noctis blinks black, endless eyes at them at their approach. Still dressed in the fatigues he was wearing the day he killed Ardyn.

"At last," he says, and it sounds relieved. "Welcome home, my friends."

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

The Gods whisper to Regis  _this boy is the Chosen King, come to save our star from the blight._

The Gods say to Somnus  _your brother is plagued by the Scourge, no longer pure. You must turn him away to save our star._

The Gods say to Noctis  _end this old dynasty to save our star._

Always about the star. Never about the people on the star. But all stars fade and die eventually, even as their echoes remain in the skies above long after, phantoms that no longer exist.

The Star has been dead for centuries. The Gods, far longer. The Scourge ensured the demise of both.

Yet still they whisper  _save us, save our star._

Regis does what he is asked, and he dies, leaving behind a legacy of impossible choices and insurmountable odds. His son will surpass him, and bury his memory in gold.

Somnus does what he is asked, and his loathed by his brother until the end. He weeps at the end, on his death bed, because he knows the truth. He begs Ignis  _save my brother_ even as the Hand puts knives through him, and Ignis vows  _we will save them all._

Noctis does what is asked, and puts a blade through Ardyn's chest. Ardyn laughs, because at last he is free, and because this boy-child cannot comprehend what he has done, the curse he has chosen to take up now, in the wake of so much destruction. He thinks he is saving the world, but he is only saving one man, much like his father before him.

_One for the price of many. One to save us all. Save our star._

The Gods whisper many things, all of them lies.

And so it is that Noctis dies at age 23, on board a train bound for Tenebrae, and his brothers spend the next ten years piecing together the truth as the world goes black and Ardyn Lucis Caelum at last finds peace.

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

"Well then," Noctis says, and spreads his hands out. A benevolent gesture as his 114 Arms spread themselves out, fanning in the shape of wings. "Let's end this. Don't let us down."

Much of Noctis' abilities became twisted and warped when he died, when he became what he is now. Ignis has spent years researching them, simply for this one final battle. For the day he and the others would dance against their king in a spray of bodies and blood and Scourge, when they would chip away at him with weapons their fathers once urged them to use to keep Noctis safe.

Noctis leaves himself open. Wide open. He wants this death, wants this end as much as they do. They're all tired, all broken, all longing for the comfort of death. But unlike the Gods decreed, they will not do this alone. There will be no final battle where one man boldly walks forward while the rest stay to die protecting his back. Instead, they will do as they've done from the beginning, but never realized they were doing.

They will fight as one, and they will die as one. The Scourge will find no grip in any of them, and with them, the last of the old Gods will die, and the star will fade, and the Scourge will march on, impossible to stop. Dawn will never rise for them, not here, in this dead world. But on the other side, perhaps. Perhaps.

But first they must reach it.

Ignis and Gladio and Prompto move as one unit, swinging and shooting and dodging as Noctis lays down blow after blow, not intent on killing them, but stopping their movements. If he were actually trying, this would be no contest, they would all be dead. But there's nobody left willing to come after him, to stop his faux immortality, and so he doesn't strike to kill, only to annoy, impede.

As he bleeds, so too do his men. Ignis can hear the rasp of dry throats, the gasp of air as its driven out of lungs, the scrape of dirt against skin and the snap of broken bones. He hears each shatter as an Arm falls, never to return. As they break, they fade, returning to the hand of the lord or lady who wielded them so many years ago. 

At last, only one remains, and it is the one Noctis takes in hand and fights with, even as he stumbles, even as he staggers. It no longer feels like a battle to the death, but a training day on the mats, where Noctis struggles to get his footing as he throws the Engine Blade around, hoping to catch one of them by surprise. How many times have they done this very same dance on the havens? How often did their yells fill the air as they fought and sparred and laughed?

Ignis remembers it. He remembers so much, now. Remembers a child he met at six, shy and wide-eyed, eager to make friends. Remembers an uncertain young man at twenty-two who just wanted the world to stop kicking him. And he knows this tired vagrant in front of them now, worn down from the world and ready to sleep.

He feels the ending more than hears it. There's a ripple through the Armiger, through the family magics woven in their blood, and then an unmistakable sensation of the web being ripped apart, shattered, never to be brought back together again. He hears Noctis gasp wetly, and then the sound of the Engine Blade shattering. Footsteps stumbling back. 

"At last," Noctis whispers. " _At last."_

They all let their weapons fall, and reach for him. Their own injuries bleed harshly, and its hard to keep a grip on each other. But they hold on tight, one last time, as they lower Noctis to the ground and follow him. 

"It's been one hell of a ride," Gladio says, his voice quiet. "We really kicked ass, out there."

"Saw the sights," Prompto adds. "Made so many memories. Remember the beginning of it all?"

"Hard to forget," Ignis points out dryly. "We ran out of gas because you dared Noctis to push the speed limit."

Noctis wheezes from his spot beneath them. "Ninety-five in a sixty. And then we ran out of gil, and had to take our first hunt."

"We had no clue what we were doing," Gladio laughs. 

"Out of our comfort zones, without a doubt," Ignis agrees softly.

"Yeah, but that was half the fun of it," Prompto says. "We learned by pushing ourselves."

"And here we are."

"We walked tall," Noctis whispers. "Now, we rest."

It's so easy, just like it was the first time they set up the tent and went to bed. Gladio on Noctis' left, arm encircling his hip, Prompto beside Noctis on his right, arm across Noctis' chest, hand tangled with Gladio's, and Ignis behind Prompto, one hand curling around his, the other reaching out to all of them. Even now, it's a soothing feeling, knowing they're all here, breathing as one.

"See you guys in the morning," Prompto says, burying his face against Noctis' neck. 

"Sleep well," Gladio orders. 

"First one up in the morning, please turn the pot of coffee on," Ignis requests.

"Love you guys," Noctis murmurs, face pale, ahead of them as ever in his need for sleep. 

 _Thank you,_ he doesn't say, but they hear it even as they follow him under. Ignis slides under last, and doesn't allow himself to feel anything but relief as he goes. 

 

0-0-0-0-0-0-0

 

The smell of sweet grass, of the ocean, and the call of seagulls overhead. 

He blinks awake, rolling over, and finds himself beneath pre-dawn skies. He takes a moment to simply breathe the air in, to feel himself again and be aware, before sitting up.

They're up on a grassy knoll overlooking the sea, and in the distance the lights of the Quay twinkle invitingly.

Gladio and Prompto are already awake - dressed not in their Kingsglaive jackets, but the Crownsguard uniforms from a lifetime ago as they sit on a pair of rocks. They're younger-looking too, for all that their eyes bear the years their bodies don't. Gladio lifts a hand when Ignis walks to them, and Prompto smiles up at him, fiddling with his camera, obviously seeking the perfect morning shot.  

Behind them, there sits a haven, blue runes pulsing. There are four chairs set up around the campfire, the grill and plates from a meal not yet eaten laid out, ready for when Ignis needs them. A pot of coffee has been started, and bubbles invitingly. A radio sits on the table, quietly playing a tune they've heard several times over the course of their long journey.

The tent is set up, and from within, the sound of a soft snore. A pair of familiar black boots stick out, twitching occasionally as Noctis dreams.

Ignis looks at Gladio, meeting his gaze. Gladio just smiles, tips his head towards the third rock overlooking the sea. Ignis walks over, picking up a mug that he shattered over thirty years ago, and pours himself a cup of coffee that tastes as strong as it did the first time he ever found it. 

And only then does he settle in with the others, watching the dawn come again, and quietly waiting for Noctis to wake and join them in the new day. In the background, the radio plays on.

_"So darling, darling, stand by me, oh stand by me..."_


End file.
